Dead Men Dancing - A collection of short stories

The Interrogation

The detective walked around the room, his shoes clacking on the tiled floor. He paused and took a minute to inspect his reflection in the one-way mirror that covered one of the walls of the tiny room, making sure that not a hair of his meticulously groomed moustache was out of place.He'd spent a good part of his morning oiling and combing it, much to the eternal exasperation of his dear wife, who believed with all her tired heart that the most tedious part of their ten-year marriage was dealing with his obsessive love for his facial hair.His gaze fell on the two men in the room. One of them was his trusty constable, a wiry individual with wits sharper than the tip of the detective's immaculate moustache, and an eye for details that would put the most pretentious art critic to shame. Right now, those eyes were fixed on the third person in the room.The detective finally stopped pacing about and took his seat next to the constable, who slid a file towards him. Not taking his eyes off the man in front of them, the detective flipped the pages of the file aggressively, hardly sparing a glance at the contents.His nanny's final advice right before she jumped off a plane was to always establish dominance right off the bat. 'Show 'em who's boss,' she had said with a toothy grin which, ironically, had contained little to no teeth, just before leaping off. It would have been better if she had paid less attention to giving advice and more to checking her parachute before doing so, but not everyone is perfect after all.By the looks of it, it seemed to be working. The suspect sitting across them seemed quite intimidated, so much that he couldn't even look him in the eye.The man was bewildered, to say the least. Why was the detective flipping pages with a vengeance while staring daggers into him as though he had a personal vendetta with the file? It was so awkward that it was hard to maintain eye contact with him."So....." started the detective, finally breaking the silence. "Do you know why we have brought you here today?"The man cleared his throat tentatively. "Um....they told me that-""Shut it. I'm the one talking here.""B-but.....I.....you asked me....""Can it, buddy," snapped the detective. "Constable, read out the charges. And it would do you good to remember this, son. Nothing gets past me. Ever."The constable puffed up like a proud dog that had received a treat after performing its first trick and started reading from the file."You have been arrested on grounds of being a suspect in the murder of Mrs Miriam, a very well-known jewellery shop owner, on the 6th of October, 20XX. She was found in her shop the next day with her head stuck in a revolving door and roughly seventeen wounds on her body that seemed to have been inflicted by an axe. When the shop attendants discovered her body, she was still rotating on the revolving doors like a merry-go-round."The constable closed the file with a wry shake of his head. "Truly a heinous crime," he commented. "Haven't seen anything like this since the Flowery Handbag Massacre of 20XX." The two men shuddered at the memory. Twelve-year-olds were truly scary."Thank you, constable," said the detective, turning his attention to the man, who looked considerably uneasy now. "Now, Mister, let us lay out the facts. On the day she was murdered......that very night, actually.....the security tapes showed that your car was parked outside the shop. What were you doing there?"A bead of sweat rolled down the man's neck. The vehement glares of the two people were unnerving, to say the least."I was......getting coffee."One of the detective's carefully groomed eyebrows shot up. "At three in the night?" he questioned, a hint of scepticism in his tone.".......yeah."A tense silence fell upon them like a heavy blanket. Then suddenly, the detective shrugged dismissively. "Fair enough. A man needs to have his coffee. I can respect that.""Sir!" the constable blurted out, taken aback. The smug smile that he had been sporting till now fell off his face faster than a kid swiping candy off the table before their sibling could get their hands on it. "He's clearly lying!""Let me decide that, Constable. I am a professional after all. Nothing gets past me."The constable slumped back in his seat, and the detective turned to the man again, who now was sweating so much that there were giant pit stains under his arms and on his stomach."Right. Now here is the next question. We had our men search your car, and we found a blood-covered axe wrapped in some newspaper. Care to explain that?"The man gulped, turning white as a sheet. "I.....um....was just.....I was just coming back from......butchering some chickens.""Chickens?!" The constable couldn't keep it in any longer. "In the middle of the city?! With an axe?! Who kills chickens in the middle of the city with an axe and keeps it in their car trunk with the blood still on it?!""I-I forgot to wash it, that's all....""Constable," said the detective with a condescending sigh. "I do believe killing animals with an axe is much more humane. Quick and painless.""Sir, I really, really don't think that he is telling the truth-""Hush now. It's a valid excuse."A noise similar to the sound of a strangled scream came out of the constable as he slumped down in his seat once again. His blood pressure had shot through the roof, and he desperately wished that he'd taken up his dad's offer to come work with him as a hamster whisperer instead of choosing to deal with this eccentric, oblivious, moustached-"Alright, moving on....."The detective knitted his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table. "Mister, I'm gonna need you to answer me truthfully on this one, alright?""Y-yes?""Security tapes show you entering the shop premises through the back door right before the murder. Why did you go into the shop in the middle of the night?"The constable glared at the man, who fidgeted nervously in his chair, daring him to spin another bullshit story."I was employed by the lady to do some plumbing before the shop opened, and she asked me to come in through the back door."Another moment of tense silence followed his words. The detective looked at the man with piercing eyes, like a tiger stalking its prey. He wasn't the toughest detective on the force for nothing. Criminals cowered under his utterly charismatic glare, and it was said that wherever the detective was assigned, thugs would stop committing crimes out of sheer fear. People may ask who said that, but that was irrelevant."So....," started the detective, slowly spelling out each word. "You say that....you were called into a jewellery shop....by Mrs Miriam.....in the middle of the night....to do plumbing?""Yes....?""I thought you said that you kill chickens for a living?""I-I do part-time plumbing....."The detective fixed the man with one of his signature intense stares, making him squirm. "So.....you are a part-time plumber and a butcher who kills chickens using an axe, which was found all bloody in your car trunk, and coincidentally, you were doing plumbing for the victim at the time of murder?""I.......guess?""Sounds about right," declared the detective, leaning back in his chair. Judging by the look on the constable's face at the moment, it was clear that he was a minute away from stabbing the detective with a blunt pencil and tearing off the stupid, yet stunning moustache off his face."Sir." The constable spoke slowly through gritted teeth. "Don't you think.....there may be a chance that....he's lying to you? And doing a terrible job at it too?"The detective waved him off dismissively. "Nonsense. His alibi makes perfect sense, Constable. Trust me, I've done this a million times to know when someone's trying to pull a fast one on me. Nothing gets past me, remember?"It took all of the constable's strength to not burst into tears then and there. He took a huge, shuddering breath to calm himself down and turned to the suspect, trying not to show blatant hatred so openly on his face."So," the constable said, or snarled, more like it. "We looked through your social media accounts, and....."He fished out a folder from the by-then-forgotten-about file and slid it over to the man so that he could take a good look at it."Here, right before the murder, you have posted a selfie of yourself with the axe in your hand, standing outside the jewellery shop with the caption 'feeling cute, might kill someone later'."The man stared at the paper for a good few minutes."I-" he mumbled."What was that?" quipped the constable. His previous smugness had crawled back into his demeanour. "Don't stutter over your confession, man. Take your time.""Now, now, Constable," the detective chided in a tone similar to one people would use to talk to a child that had been caught eating sand. "Don't badger him. You are just going to make him nervous. Look at him, he's already gone all pale and sweaty, thanks to you.""Sir, he's nervous because he's guilty! He should be! After all, he did kill a woman!""We haven't proved that yet. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?""He is obviously-!"The detective raised a hand to cut off the constable, whose frustration was now making his face turn into a tomato look-alike. "So, Mister, would you like to explain your post?"The man's eyes flitted from the detective to the constable. "I.....was making a joke?""Oh. That's okay then"The constable had just about enough at that point. He stood up abruptly and slammed another piece of paper on the table, startling the other two men. "You posted another picture of you after the murder, holding the axe with the caption 'job well done'!""I-I was proud of the plumbing job!""YOU WERE COVERED IN BLOOD!""I-its the chicken blood! I put down a chicken just before I took that picture!""YOU SONNOVA-"The constable lunged toward the man over the table with a wild cry. The detective held him back quite effortlessly, thanks to hundreds of hours of Zumba training. Those dance moves really built up muscles in a guy like nothing else."Constable! Calm down!""Oh, shut it, you moron! You can't even see what's right in front of you! What sort of a two-bit detective are you?!""I will write you up for insubordination if you don't cut this out right now, Constable. I mean it."The constable stopped struggling, and slowly, the Detective let him go. He sat down, ignoring the stern look he got from the detective, and crossed his arms like a petulant child."Constable, I need you to trust me and my expertise here. You cannot take things into your own hands. Besides, there is nothing to worry about. Nothing gets past me."The detective then turned to the man and sighed. "Sorry about that," he said to the suspect, who was now literally trembling like a leaf from head to toe. "So....getting back to you....."He looked at the pictures of the posts that he had made. "You are saying that the first post of you saying that you might kill someone while you are holding an axe in front of the shop right before the murder was posted as a joke, and the second one of you covered in blood and again holding said axe was something you posted so you were proud of a plumbing/chicken slaughtering job well done?"The man bit his lip and glanced at the constable, who was in the middle of shooting him death glares. "That's......right."The detective took a deep breath and leaned forward, muscles bulging as he rested on his arms. His moustache shone brilliantly even under the pale lighting."Do you really expect us to believe you?"The constable perked up. A light of hope shone in his eyes as he looked at his superior with anticipation. Finally.....".......because we sure do! Don't you worry, we are on your side here."If one listened closely, the sound of an audible 'crack' could have been heard at that moment as the constable's sanity started breaking down. He put his head in his hands in utter despair, willing himself to not hurl himself at the Detective and rip his face off with his teeth like a deranged coyote.Suddenly, the door burst open, and two cops came in. The detective, unlike the constable and the suspect, seemed unperturbed by the interruption. It took a lot more to shake the detective. Rumour had it that once, the detective had faced a lion, and instead of the lion biting him, he had bitten the lion. Lion meat wasn't very yummy, according to the detective, but it did enhance his reputation of being a badass."Sir," announced one of the men, brandishing a few sheets of paper. "We got the evidence you needed. You were right about everything."The detective yawned and stood up. "Oh good," he muttered, with a sleepy smile. "This has gone on for way too long now."He now turned to the constable, who seemed utterly confused with the transpiring events."Constable, you are under arrest for the murder of Mrs Miriam. Cuff him, lads."The two cops came forward to put him in handcuffs. The constable looked at the detective, absolutely shocked."W-what? Why?!"The detective stretched out his arms, groaning softly as his sore muscles strained under the pressure. "Care to spare the details, boys?"One of the policemen obliged. "We found the security footage of you coming in as a customer and hiding in the store until it was closed and then sneaking out after the store was open along with the employees. We couldn't catch you on tape doing the actual deed as the security footage had been tampered with, but we tracked down the hacker, who then gave us enough information for us to figure out that it was you who paid her to do it. The murder weapon, namely the axe, was found cleaned with bleach in a dumpster two blocks away with no prints, but fortunately, forensics found a strand of your hair stuck in one of the splinters on the handle. Due to the overwhelming evidence, we are charging you with first-degree murder. Anything you say will be used against you and you have the right to remain-""Screw you!" screamed the constable, as he was led out the door, escorted by the two men."Crime never pays, Constable," the detective said with a mournful sigh. "Always remember that.""Oh, bite me!"The detective watched them till they were out the door, and then turned to shoot a benign smile at the man, who had been watching with unveiled astonishment."T-that....that was amazing! How'd you figure out it was him all along?"A short laugh escaped the detective as he stood up to escort the man out. "As I said," he answered, with an all-knowing twinkle in his eye and a tweak of his moustache."Nothing gets past me."